


Brighter than sunshine

by orphan_account



Series: Put your records on. [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, Modern AU, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years he'd been the "guy who'd drugged up Mad Aerys".<br/>Until he wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brighter than sunshine

He'd actually done it back when he was an intern, barely out of Med school. But they'd still considered it his spotlight moment. That moment, that defined the career of one Jaime Lannister, future consultant military surgeon and one of the best damn transplant specialists in the country. It had been, according to the masses "Daddy's money and the Mad guy's craziness that stopped his career from ending then and there."

No one ever wondered why Rhaegar and Rhaella Targaryen never pressed charges over the subject.

("To be honest, I think deep down they're sort of grateful, you know." Mrs Stark Targaryen had told him once. Then, Jaime had thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, even though she shot her mouth off without thinking, most of the time. Professor Targaryen had married her months before Aerys's admission, and she had just had the baby. Who was a rather delectable confection with his daddy's smile and his mama's hair. It made Jaime wonder how pretty his and Cersei's baby would be. Someday.)

Of course in the aftermath, Jaime's life had turned upside down.

("Well for one thing, I can't be with you in public Jaime. That would be disgusting. And besides, I'm getting engaged to Robert Baratheon. He's the new up and coming. they say that he might even take over the Targaryen empire! It's not like Rhaegar seems to want anything to do with it." Cersei was bitter about being spurned by the good professor, only to realize that he was carrying on with her arch rival.)

It had never gone back to rights after that. Cersei had married Robert B, only coming to him when she wanted to. Of course that was the case. Cersei was repulsed by Robert, his drinking, his nightly shenanigans, his horrific brothers (the ice man and the twink). She wanted his solace, his utter devotion, and he had given her that and more. He had given her three children. Fair babes, with green eyes and spun gold hair. And each of them called him Uncle Jaime.

It was their little secret, but like all dirty little secrets, it wasn't theirs and theirs alone.  _  
_

"You let her use you Jaime. You let her use you." In that perverse way that genius people have of tacitly knowing things, Tyrion knew about Jaime and Cersei as intimately and in a way that not even Jaime himself allowed himself to admit. "You let her use you, and manipulate you, and if it comes to blows, she'll lay all the blame at your door." Jaime pretended not to hear and downed the dregs of yet another pint of beer. "Are you even listening to me?" Tyrion snaps, snatching the mug out of his hand. It's rich coming from the man who has outdrunk every college don while still a first year at the university of King's landing. But then again, Jaime's never been good at holding his drink like his baby brother. So he just acquiesces to the force and says "no."

It sort of sucked, not having an honest relationship with his sister-lover, and not being able to call his son his own (not in the case of Joffrey, who was... well, ahem. But Tommen and Cella loved him so very much, so much more than they loved Robert. Only not as much as they loved Tyrion.) It wasn't really the strain of the whole arrangement, it was the dishonesty of it all. Jaime at the heart of it all was an honest man. Much weighed down by guilt and paper and gold  yes, but still honest. He wasn't a bad man, and he hadn't even meant to finish off old Aerys. (Though, really. He didn't regret it. Not once. Not ever.)

 

"Do you think that someone being mentally ill can excuse their abuse of someone else?"

God knew why he had chosen to ask (of all the damn questions in the world)  _that_ particular question from his junior, the dumb blonde cow who he had been charged with training this time. He'd always had the worst luck with subs. Podrick was a ladies' man who spent too much time tagging after Tyrion. Peck was a completely insipid sot who decided to get besotted with some strange country girl called Heddle. And Loras (even without the disgusting credential of being the boyfriend of his deplorable brother in law's equally nauseating youngest brother) was the most repulsive little shit that existed. (Bar Joffrey. And maybe that Bolton boy.)

And to top the list, he currently had the ugliest woman in all of Westeros in his ward for a year of training. 

Brienne Tarth was an idiot. A completely idealistic, ridiculous, witless idiot. With her "I want to save lives, I want to heal the world" attitude and her "dulce et decroum est" point of view, she was the worst junior he'd had to train. 

"Are you as stupid as you are ugly?" he asked her, two days into the training. She blushed red as a boiled beetroot. Apparently, her default reaction was blushing. (When in doubt, blush. Jaime could think up a thousand different japes to use on her regarding that.) She was a dull creature, with little life, and even less to say. 

That was, when she was outside the operating theatre. 

Inside the dark room, she was a sorceress. She could pull off most of the procedures with a natural skill and a calmness that, though rough, Jaime had seen only once before. And that was when Arthur Dayne was still in practice at the peak of his form. Were she a little more outgoing, a little more realistic, she could well end up being the best in their game. 

Well, all the better for him. He could not have his junior outshine him at this point. 

Anyway, back to the question. Brienne pursed her lips and stared at her hands for a few (long) moments. "It depends." Jaime leaned forwards. "On what? On what does it depend? Tell me, miss oh-so-righteous-Tarth, on what does it depend?" Brienne looked up, the red blush creeping up her neck slowly. "I-I-" she stammered, unable to stand his mocking green eyes on her. "What? Cat got your tongue?" he sneers. "Quite a thing for a big hulk like you to-" 

"And whatever it depends on, it still does not right what you did, Dr. Lannister!" She snapped back, all of a sudden. Jaime was taken aback. But soon the surprise was replaced with a chilling sense of fury. 

"And what do you know about that, Tarth?" he asked icily, his glass green eyes, boring into her face. And she, strangely and yet so wonderfully, stared right back.

For the first time, Jaime Lannister noticed that her eyes were the most astonishing, vibrant shade of  blue.

 

"You slept with Lancel." Jaime said, softly, watching his sister through golden lashes. Cersei fiddles with the little umbrella in her drink. "Is that a problem? You've been spectacularly absent these past years. " "Only because you didn't want to see me."

Cersei is quiet. "How many times must I tell you, Jaime? you and I getting caught would have been a disaster and-" "And you getting caught with Lancel would not?" He shoots back. "How many times did I beg you  Cersei? Leave the man if you can't stand him. We can take the children and leave for the States. Or Japan. Or New Zealand. Or even bloody Timbuktu! They won't find us, and we could be together." He'd actually grabbed her hand at that point. She swatted him off. "Don't make a scene Jaime. This is a nice place. If you think you can ever avoid the stink of that Aerys debacle, you're very very wrong." He reeled back as if he'd been slapped. 

"Are we done?" he ended up saying. Cersei nodded, smiled genially and stood up. She contemplated for a moment, then bent down and kissed his stubble worn cheek briefly. "See you then, Jaime." She said, looking as beautiful as ever. She'd always looked like she'd been carved out of marble. Ethereal, elegant, expensive, he'd thought when he was younger. Now she seemed cold, frozen without the touch of humanity, the breath of life, the warmth of real flesh. 

"I love you." He said to the remaining cloud of perfume, that lingered in her wake. And, like a man waking from a long and dreadful slumber, he touched his cheek, surprised, yet so very unsurprised to find a lone tear making its bold way down the side.

"I loved you."

 

He got blind stone drunk that night, of course he did. Tyrion was in the Vale, with his assistant and his favourite student. And his hooker girlfriend he'd picked up at the God's eye. Thus he can't stop Jaime. All that he has lived for, all that he has believed in was shattered. It had been cracked for so long. But this, this was the death blow. This was the end, the last pat of earth on a long buried corpse. 

And here he was, all alone. 

"Dr. Lannister, are you alright?"

Or not. 

The voice at his ear was familiar, and the hands on his shoulders were ones that he knew. He turned to the man- no, the woman, this was Tarth, no doubt. "Does it look like I'm alright, m'dear strumpet?"

Even drunk, he could see the botched red of her neck. "I'm afraid not sir."

"Aaand you're right. I'm not. Now, if you'd be so kind-" he tried to stand and nearly fell on his face. Tarth held him up. Distantly, he could hear her saying something about calling a cab, and asking him where he wanted to be dropped off to. He told her in what sounded like gobledegook to his own ears, that he lived on the third floor of the Harrenhall luxury flats, apartment 21A to be precise. She frowned in confusion, and then, after some shuffling, ended up on the pavement hailing a cab. 

"This it, sir?"

Jaime squinted in the too bright light, the next he resurfaced. Yes, this was his place, with the velvet couch and the rug Tyrion had gotten him from Turkey, that one time he'd gone there to hide from Cersei's wrath. "Yeh." he grunted in assent. Tarth hauled him over to the couch, where she deposited him with a thump, and proceeded to shuffle around, obviously looking for water and paracetamol. 

"I don't take paracetamol for hangovers, woman." he said surprisingly articulate. She set a glass of water on the table by his side. "I see." "No you don't." "Well if that's it, Dr. Lannister, I'll be off." 

He really didn't know what on Earth possessed him to shoot his hand out and grasp hers. 

"Wait." he rasped. "There's something I need to tell you."

She paused a moment. And then shrugged her shoulders, and sat down by his head. "You can tell me what you want to tell me."

It was now or it was never.

"Cersei. She's been cheating on me." Through the drunken haze, he saw her face go still. "So they're true." She said at last. "What?" "The stories. How you were- were- how you were with your sister like that." Even drunk Jaime has the soberness to look surprised. "Ren told me a while back. Said that Stannis had noticed you, and had told him. It's only a secret from Robert."

So everyone who needed to know knew. Except Tywin.

"I loved her. But- Tyrion was right. She's been using me. Why would she do that? What could I give her? What?" Brienne was silent. He could see the revulsion running through her head, though he was too pissed to really see what was on her face. 

"You're judging me." "Am I?" "Stop it." "Why?" 

Why indeed. People have judged him all his life. Since he was eighteen and had stuck that needle into Aerys's arm. So why was he stopping this ugly girl from doing the same? What did one woman's absolution mean to Jaime Lannister?

What indeed.

"You think I'm immoral." "Do I?" 

"You think I should be locked up." Silence.

"You don't know the half of it." "Then pray enlighten me, Sir."

Jaime shifts in his couch. He knew he was drunk, and yet-

"he raped her." "What?"

"Aerys. He raped Rhaella. Said she was sleeping with some other man. Rhaegar had caught him. And then there was the drama with Arthur's sister. That's why he was admitted. I think he had a hand in Elia's death too. Shame. Elia was kind, even if she wasn't the right woman for Rhaegar.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. So we knew that Aerys was difficult that day, but old Pycelle, the head doctor decided to let him have visitors anyway. And Rhaella came in, three months pregnant, alone. Rhaegar and Lyanna couldn't make it that day. So-" he paused. He could still remember how very shrill Rhaella's screams had been. How her violet eyes had been blown wide with terror, how Aerys had twisted her hair through his filth long nails. 

"We left them alone, Pycelle's orders. And no one questioned it. Five minutes later I heard the screams." He paused again. 

"When I got in, he'd pinned her down and was banging her head on the floor. She was barely conscious. And all the while he was tearing at her clothes, at her skin like a wild animal leaving bite marks and blood all over her skin. And-" he shuddered. "He was inside of her, lying on top of her, crushing her belly, knowing that she was pregnant. So I did what I could. I hauled him off her, and dragged her away. And then I injected him with the tranquilizer.

I don't think he expected it. I know I didn't. It was the wrong syringe I'd taken in my haste. And-" he sobbed. It was real. This was hell, this nightmare he lived in, every time someone brought it up.

He felt her hand on his shoulder, her other in his hair, carding through it gently. "Get some rest Jaime." he heard her say. "I'll see you in the morning."

When he woke up the next morning, with a splitting headache, the first thing he remembered was blue eyes. Blue eyes and strong hands. 

 And for the first time, the sense of peace. And absolution.


End file.
